


Rainy Day and New Beginnings

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Conversations, Family, M/M, POV Male Character, POV Michael Ambruso, POV Queer Character, Post-Episode: s04e17 Put a Ring on It, Rain, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rainy Sunday, Michael and Cyrus get to a better place in their fake marriage. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainy Day and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

The thundering rain and the TV was drowned out by Ella’s soft breathing.

On the other side of the living room couch, Cyrus stretched. “I’m going to call Ethan.”

“He’s not going to have anything different to say than he did an hour ago.”

“You don’t know that,” was Cyrus’s insistent reply.

Shaking his head, Michael watched him get up and head towards his bedroom.

Carefully, Michael picked Ella up and felt warmth spread through him when she snuggled closer against his chest. Carrying her to her room, he laid her down, covered her up, and kissed her forehead.

She mumbled something.

Before turning off the lights and closing the door, he looked around the room. Jungle-themed but undeniably belonging to a little girl, she had lions, butterflies, and zebras to enjoy. ‘Lions keep me safe,’ she’d told him once, ‘and butterflies fly good dreams in, and I’m like a zebra, cause I’m black, but Dada is white, and so was Daddy, and parts of them are in me.’

He hoped Cyrus wouldn’t send her to boarding school when she got a little older. He hoped having two gay dads and an ex-hooker stepfather wouldn’t make her a target. He hoped she’d always be able to view families of mixed colours as a positive thing and herself as a thing of beauty.

When he got to Cyrus’s room, he knocked, opened the door, and found Cyrus digging through his nightstand. “Do you know where my umbrella is? Ethan is going to start a war if I don’t get there soon.”

“Really? A low-level aide has that sort of power and access? Then, how is it we haven’t already-”

Shooting him a glare, Cyrus stalked over to the closet. “I’m willing to admit to slight hyperbole, but he is going to cause real trouble. Why did I ever agree to Sundays off?”

 _Because of James_ , Michael didn’t answer.

Walking over, he grabbed Cyrus’s arm. “Hey. If you have another heart attack, I’m letting you die on the floor.”

Chuckling slightly, Cyrus shook his head. “First, there’s no guarantee I’d die, two, you wouldn’t do that to Ella, and three, all the more reason to get to Ethan. He might want to, but he’d never have the courage or heartlessness to actually let me die.”

“All the more reason for you to focus on something besides your job for one day,” Michael corrected. “Come on, Cy. It’s a rainy day, Ella’s sleeping, everything is peaceful. Want me to make some hot chocolate, and we can watch one of those political shows you like so much?”

Cyrus sighed, hesitated, and then, said, “Yeah, why not? But if anything about us going to war comes on, all that blood will be on your hands.”

“Got it,” Michael agreed.

…

Cyrus didn’t protest when Michael leaned against him on the couch.

Closing his eyes, Michael told himself it was okay to enjoy this.

One time after everything had come out and he’d moved in, he’d tried for sex, and Cyrus had made it clear what sort of person he viewed Michael as and how he’d rather be subjected to an extensive list of things than ever be touched by said sort of person.

He’d stuck to his words, which was better than some of the other men Michael had been with, but with Cyrus, words were easy to wield and struck the target more accurately than a fist or kick could.

Sometimes, remembering them still brought a lump to his throat, and sometimes, it was hard not to lash out and unleash his anger.

_No one ever tried to change everything that made you you. You go to bed hungry and dreaming of being happy and being terrified you’re never going to be full and get your happily ever after for a day or two, and you’d probably break. I went for years. Yes, I felt guilty for what I was doing to you, but I was getting older, finally making real progress in getting a decent education so that maybe I didn’t have to end up dead by forty, and the chance for a safe, comfortable life was so close I could practically taste it. In bed, you wanted it to be about my pleasure, too, and that made you a rarity. If you knew what some men wanted, what they made me do, what I forced myself to do- well, you’d probably just be even more disgusted._

If he could, he’d make sure he never said any of this.

He didn’t get his dream wedding, but for a fake marriage, things weren’t bad. Cyrus sometimes ignored him and Ella both, but he was never cruel, anymore. When they did spend time together, it was safe and sometimes fun.

Outside, the rain hit the roof and windows, and against him, Cyrus was warm, solid, and smelled vaguely of the aftershave Michael didn’t like to wear for himself but did enjoy smelling on Cyrus.

If this were real, he’d lead Cyrus back into the bedroom that would be theirs rather than Cyrus’s and have quiet sex with his husband so they wouldn’t wake Ella. Afterwards, they’d lay together and talk.

Cyrus would probably think he was trying to get information, now, he knew.

He’d never said it, but when Cyrus held him and talked, some part of him had wondered if there was any way to make it into a real relationship without Cyrus being hurt by Elizabeth North.

He jumped slightly when Cyrus wrapped a hand around his arm.

“Sorry,” Cyrus said, and to Michael’s disappointment, he removed the hand. “You okay? Part of the fun of watching CSN with you is, by this point, you’re usually sighing dramatically and suggesting career changes for me.”

Sitting up fully, he turned to face Cyrus. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m fine.”

Making sure to keep it soft, he leaned over and kissed Cyrus.

Cyrus must have been surprised, because he started to respond to it.

Then, unsurprisingly, he jumped up. “We have a very simple arrangement,” he hissed.

Leaning back on the couch, Michael shrugged. “You know, I’ve had sex with married men before, but I’ve never had it as a married man. What are you afraid is going to happen? There aren’t any cameras here, not that we’d probably do anything extreme enough to warrant blackmail, anyway. What are you afraid I’m going to tell people? Even people who absolutely hate the idea of gay marriage, even they’d react to the news that a married couple had sex with, ‘Uh, yeah, married people tend to do that on occasion, aside from them being godless sinners, good for them.’”

There was a brief sound of amusement from Cyrus, but it was quickly replaced with tired exasperation. “Nothing is keeping you here. As long as you’re discreet, you can have all the sex you want as a married man.”

Sighing, Michael stood up. “Look, I get it: We’re not going to fall in love. Someday, one or both of us might find somebody. But until then- I did it for the money, but in complete honesty, I liked having sex with you, Cyrus. Hurting you now means hurting myself.”

He hesitated.

Then, he found himself saying, “During some of the really bad times, I’d go inside myself. One of the things I imagined was, someday, making love with my husband. Who he was, what he did, what he was like, even the kind of sex we’d have all changed, but no shame, no fear, finally being able to make it about me, I clung to all of that.”

“I’m not trying to get anything out of you. If you ever decide we can have some more fun with this arrangement together, I’m game. If not, don’t worry, I’m going to keep the peace. Your umbrella’s in the laundry room, by the way.”

He started to walk away.

“Wait,” Cyrus said.

He did.

Looking over towards Ella’s room, Cyrus said, “Ella’s here right now, and I don’t- have anything.”

Moving over, Michael carefully put a hand on his shoulder. “We can be quiet, and I do.”

There probably wasn’t any need- he knew for sure he was clean, and there was little chance Cyrus wasn’t, but Cyrus didn’t trust him to a point where suggesting they forgo condoms would go over well.

Leaning down, he kissed Cyrus until the indecision was no longer present in Cyrus’s posture. “Go to your room,” he said, “and I’ll be there shortly.”

…

Trying not to shiver, he wrapped himself tighter around Cyrus and made sure his face was buried in Cyrus’s neck.

Wanting this hadn’t exactly prepared him for getting it, he’d admit.

When he was fifteen, he’d thought this boy, Noah Samson, from science class really liked him back, and he’d lost his virginity to him. Before he found out what a mistake it was, he’d never thought anything could feel better than what they’d done together. Two people sharing such a thing- even the fear of what might happen if others found out hadn’t worried him too much.

He’s safe, now, and it’d been a little awkward, but undeniably, it had been _good_.

Feeling Cyrus tracing his arm, he heard, “Tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?”

Underneath him, there was a slight shrug. “Before, it was usually me who did the talking. It’s your turn, now. Whatever you feel comfortable saying.”

He thought about it, and readjusting himself into a more comfortable position, he offered, “I think my parents might truly be afraid that my mom’s responsible for me being gay. When I was about four or five, she started teaching me how to cook. I learned quick, and for a while, she was happy. I wasn’t stereotypical, not a bunch of baked goods- she didn’t really teach me that- and definitely no princess cakes or pink coloured food, but I was proud of myself and liked cooking.”

“She wanted to teach me how to sew, too,” he added. “But Dad put his foot down, and now, they probably still both think her actually being a good parent and teaching her kid an important life skill has something to do with me liking certain body parts over others.”

Cyrus made a sympathetic noise. “Well, if you were on speaking terms with them, you could tell them about me burning Ella’s grilled cheese and living on takeout when I didn’t have you or a cook.”

Unburying his face, he kissed Cyrus. “You did okay with Ella’s cereal, at least. I mean, I’m still not sure how you ever got it into your head that replacing milk with iced tea is something a normal human being would ever do, and I’m a little concerned with her having such an idea, but you know, she’s happy and well-fed.”

Abruptly, Cyrus tensed. “I’m sorry for how I treated you all those months. It was wrong of me. However I felt, you were still a human being, and you didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

He tried to take a breath and ended up laughing. “I’ve had worse,” he said. “The fact it lasted so long was what made- but anyway, for you, I don’t know if this makes it better or worse on my part, but what I did to you, it wasn’t personal. I did like you, Cyrus. I did feel guilty. But I saw a way to make things better for myself, and I told myself, if a customer got hurt by someone else, that was life. So, don’t feel guilty, okay? Neither of us deserved what we did to the other, and neither of us handled the fallout very well.”

“But you were willing to try,” Cyrus said. “I wasn’t.”

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have been, either,” Michael told him.

Sitting up, he traced Cyrus’s face with his finger. “You haven’t hurt me in a long time, and hopefully, I haven’t hurt you.” At Cyrus’s assenting nod, he continued, “Maybe we’ll never be ready for one room. Maybe someday we will. For right now, what if we try sleeping in one bed together on occasion? And doing other things. It turns out, with you, I like having sex as a married man. And out of all the married ones I’ve been with, I prefer you.”

“Okay,” Cyrus softly agreed.

“Okay,” he echoed and leaned down to kiss him.

There was a knock on the door, and Ella burst in. “Ew,” she declared, and he looked over to see her covering her eyes. “Kissing is gross!”

“Don’t panic,” he murmured to Cyrus. “I have this handled.”

Reaching onto the floor for his boxer-briefs, he quickly slipped them on under the covers, got out of bed, and grabbed his sweater.

Ella peeked out between her fingers, and seeing the grownups were no longer committing disgusting acts that no doubt carried the risk of cootie transmission, she held out her hand. “I’d like some yougurt and gummy bears, please. Why were you and Dada kissing, Uncle Michael?”

Behind him, Cyrus let out a strangled sound, and praying Cyrus really didn’t die of a heart attack, Michael led her out and shut the door behind him.

“Did you get married again? Can you get married again? Am I going to see Aunt Livvie today?”

In the kitchen, he made a show of groaning as he picked her up and sat her at the table. “Sorry, alligator, but Aunt Livvie is very busy with work right now.” Sitting down, he said, “Let’s talk about me and Dada kissing.”

Making another face, she nodded.

“You know that, after your other daddy went to heaven, your dada and I got married. And that makes me your stepfather.”

“And you promised you’d never make me wear glass slippers,” she supplied.

“Right.”

Despite her love for Cinderella, Ella had innate feminism running through her and remained firmly unimpressed with both Cinderella’s stepmother and sisters ruining Cinderella’s normal shoes and with the fairy godmother for giving Cinderella glass slippers instead of another pair of regular shoes. Aside from not believing women should try to walk on glass, she didn’t like the fact her teacher wore heels, and she once went as far as to lecture Olivia Pope and Abby Whelan on their choice in wearing such shoe wear.

Even telling her men used to wear heels all the time had gotten a response along the lines of it, ‘if they stopped, girls should, too.’

“Uh, but anyway, sometimes, parents get into bed with each other and kiss. And sometimes, they do it without clothes on.”

“Why,” was her incredulous, horrified response.

“You know how somethings are fun for kids but not for grownups and somethings are fun for grownups but not kids?”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s one of them. If anyone ever tries naked, grownup kissing with you while you’re still a kid, you need to tell me, Dada, or a trusted adult as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Can I please have my snack, now?”

“Sure,” he said. “Since you had to see me and Dada kissing, I’ll bring it to you, today. Why don’t you go find something for us to watch on TV?”

Smiling brightly, she nodded, kissed her hand, and pressed it against his face. “Thank you, Uncle Michael!”

“You’re welcome, alligator.”

She headed off, and turning to watch her go, he saw a dressed Cyrus watching him.

“Told you,” he said.

They started preparing the snack, and Cyrus commented, “You’re very good with her.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he responded with a grin.

“I was panicking,” Cyrus admitted.

Laughing, Michael gave him a quick kiss. “Well, get over it, quick. Ella’s already moved on. Want to join us?”

“Yeah,” Cyrus softly answered. “That would be good.”


End file.
